To Say I Love You, Little By Little
by and so they said always
Summary: He can't say it. That little, three word phrase seems too unremarkable for what he means. For how much he means it. So, instead, he finds lots of little ways, little things. Words and gestures and actions that can only mean "I love you" if you're looking. He hopes that, one day, she'll see. A one shot about how Castle shows what he can't tell.


**Hi guys,**

**So this is my new chapter fic. Each installment should be around 500 - 1000 words, and is about one of the hundreds of things Castle does to try and tell Beckett he loves her before he can say it (and even after, when he can say it but she's not ready to hear it).**

**Hope you enjoy.**

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**To Say I Love You, Little By Little ****– ****chapter 1  
****a caskett fanfiction**

_Little by little I've been saying  
I love you  
But you never quite hear me  
Do you?_

* * *

Often, big things begin as little things.

Traditions start off as meaningless gestures that become habits.

The world is made of fine lines, and all good stories come as a result of people crossing them.

For instance, he cannot pinpoint the exact day, the exact moment, when coffee stopped meaning _good morning _and started meaning _I love you. _

Maybe it always did, in a way. A hidden subtext, concealed even from him.

Then again, perhaps it happened gradually and indistinctly. Like how Kate transformed from hot to beautiful, from harsh to broken, from a conquest to an _always.  
_

Castle steps out of the elevator and into the bullpen, making a beeline for Beckett's desk, where he can see her glaring at her computer screen, probably riddling out an alibi ripe for the disproving.

He hands her the coffee and she grins at him.

As he falls into his chair, he wonders if he should make a list of all her smiles. There's the _ah, you brought me caffeine _one that he witnessed just now, there's the _goodnight, Castle _one. The list ranges from the _I just cracked this case wide open _to the terrible, terrible _I want you to think I'm fine _one which means she's going to cry or go kick something.

"New leads?" he asks cheerfully, watching her take a sip from the Styrofoam cup.

Castle remembers the very first time he brought her one such drink. She'd seemed surprised and possibly a little touched. This was back when she was still trying to figure out if he was actually human or just an abstract representation of irritating and suggestive remarks.

He can't help but cringe a little at himself back then.

Maybe if he hadn't come across as such a playboy in the beginning – a first impression nigh on impossible to erase – she wouldn't have said no to a date that first day. If he'd been charming and nice and gentlemanly and just genuinely helpful with that first case, she might have agreed.

But, then again, if that had happened, perhaps he wouldn't know Kate Beckett the way he does now.

Esposito and Ryan had once joked that Castle had spent enough on coffee by now to put a kid through college.

He probably has, but he doesn't care.

Coffee is a tangible way to say _I'm thinking of you.  
_

_I notice what you like.  
_

_I get up at 5am not to see a murder, but to see you.  
_

And, you know, that other thing. That three word phrase he's trying to find a moment to say to her.

Scratch that – he has hundreds of opportunities to tell her every day.

He's trying to find a way to tell her properly, and just _how much _because merely a simple, unremarkable, common, age-old confession doesn't feel like enough.

So he finds other ways to say it.

Little ways.

Quiet ways.

The things that can only mean _I love you _if you let them.

Castle hopes that, one day, Kate lets them.

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**Please review/comment/leave a prompt if you liked this story idea. If enough people are interested, I'll keep going, but if not, this can just stay a one shot.**

**Regardless, I hope you enjoyed it.**

**x. M**

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**EXTRA A/N (added at a later date): While this was originally going to be a chapter fic, I've decided to leave it as a one-shot.**

**x. M**


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